Kicking & Screaming
by oh i'm flying
Summary: JJ wasn't the only one who didn't want to leave her job. Leila Ahmed was used to the DoD controlling her life - she'd nearly died for them - but she'd never expected involuntarily domestic reassignment to land her with the FBI.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction/Author's Note**

**I will try to keep this brief, because I know these things are irritating. This story was the product of me getting stuck in a rut in my novel. The original character here is from there, and her background happened to fit quite nicely in to the idea that if they took JJ out of the BAU for the Pentagon, wouldn't they at least consider taking somebody out of the Pentagon for the BAU? And she's not happy about it either...**

**Comments, criticism, etc. welcome. I spend a lot of time writing just for myself and my editor, but when I get stuck it's better to be writing ANYTHING than to not be writing at all. This also isn't beta'd, but if you'd like to volunteer, message me!**

/end

**Kicking & Screaming**

**Chapter 1**

It was another cliché morning commute in the metro – the day bright and sunny in the distance, but separate from my bubble as I exited the Pentagon metro station, fumbling in my bag for my CAC as I followed the covered walkway to my entrance.

"Morning, Leila." A young man in dress blues commented. The medal on his chest caught a stray ray of sun that made it through the scaffolding, and I blinked.

"Good morning, lieutenant." I said, pulling my lanyard successfully from the depths of my tote bag.

"You've really got to get yourself a smaller bag." He teased as we waved our badges at the security guard, passing the visitor's entrance. The line wove back and forth outside the door, and a small group was already gathering for the first guided tour at 9.

"Looks like you're going to have a rough day." I jerked my head at the line.

"Is there ever an easy day?"

"I swear if that intern from that blog calls me one more time..." I trailed off, shaking my head as we headed towards the PAO offices.

"I'm meeting Jacobs for breakfast before the staff meeting, but I'll see you around the office at some point."

"Don't have too much fun, Richards."

"Yes ma'am."

I smiled as we broke apart, stepping in to the public affairs suite and sliding my blackberry out of my pocket.

"Ahmed, the director needs to see you." The enlisted photographer I worked with was sitting at his desk, focused on something on the wide computer screen. The blue light of his card reader blinked on the corner of his desk, and from the side of his computer half his face showed on the common access card stuck in. I drew my eyebrows together subconsciously, my attention drifting away from my phone.

"Did he say what for?" I set my bag down on my desk, slipping in to the blazer I had draped over my forearm and kicking my sneakers under my chair in favor of the work heels I had stashed there.

"No."

"Alright, thanks." I said, readjusting my ID so it pinned flat on my coat and heading across the suite to where our director sat.

"Sir?" I knocked on the door, sticking my head around the corner.

"Leila! Please, come in, shut the door." He spun away from his computer screen, folding his hands on his desk. I could see my personal file on his desk. Oh, crap.

The news he delivered wasn't expected, but the meeting played out as they always did.

They wanted me out, today.

"But this isn't a rotational position, sir. Am I being involuntarily reassigned?" I played the cuff of my jacket between my fingertips. I got the feeling that this was coming from far above his head, and I pulled in every ounce of diplomacy to not lose it.

"You never signed a contract when you came in to this department, so we can't force you anywhere. But leadership has made it clear that this is your next step if you want to remain with the DoD, or even in government service at all."

"It's not even an inter-departmental transfer! FBI is controlled by the DoJ." I exclaimed, half a complaint.

"I understand, Leila, and to be frank with you, you have options. You could easily leave for consulting or contracting. But voluntary separation means you will lose your career conditional status and reinstatement benefits."

"I don't see what choice I have then, sir."

"We will certainly miss you around here. But I think spending time in domestic will be good for you. The other two agents involved in this rotation are very talented, I think it's a good sign that you were earmarked for this assignment. It means somebody in the executive branch has their eye on you."

"I'll take this down to personnel and get the transfer started, sir." I said, leaning forward to grab the form and standing up. My eyes caught on the corner of the paper. "This says my transfer is effective the 17th... that's tomorrow."

"That's correct."

"I... I have several projects in progress, plus that press conference..." I faltered.

"You'll be in communication for several weeks with your replacement, as well as the agent you're replacing. This has gotten a bit more complicated than was intended, from what I gather, so they need you in place right away."

"It is what it is." I shrugged, extending my hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you in support of the warfighter, sir."

His handshake matched my firmness, and we locked eyes for a moment.

"Best of luck, Leila. You've always been a spitfire, and I don't think anything will deter your career from where you want it to be. I'm sure I will see you again."

"Sir?" I lingered in the doorway to his office, the file in my hand. He looked at me expectantly. "I may be going, but I'm going kicking and screaming."

_tbc._


	2. Chapter 2

**Kicking & Screaming**

**Chapter 2**

"_Have you qualified with a side-arm?" The personnel representative sitting across from me asked. I flicked my eyes at my watch. I wanted to get out of here in enough time to get the GSA back before rush hour, and start figuring out what the hell my commute was going to look like the next day._

"_That should all be in my file." I replied somewhat tersely._

"_It's not."_

**BANG.**

**BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG.**

**BANG.**

I had to qualify on a Bureau weapon, so that was what I did at 7:30 am my first morning on the job. The gun wasn't as well maintained as my personal one, but it was solid and broken in, and after a short sighting-in session I dumped six staccato shots in the kill zone over the paper target's heart and added one between the eyes for flair.

"Am I good? I can do it again." I asked the testing agent, opening the chamber and laying the firearm down on the shooting station. I slipped off my earpro and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.

"I have to officially score and record your target, but it looks to me like you're good. I can't imagine as a communications liaison you'll spend an awful lot of time with your weapon." The middle-aged man who had been leaning on the station next to mine replied, pulling my target up the range.

I shrugged.

"Everybody's a soldier first, right?"

He raised an eyebrow with half a grin.

"Once I have the paperwork filed, you'll get a notice that you can go to supply and they'll issue you a temporary and permanent firearm."

Temporary for immediate carry, permanent would be a new weapon I would have to put at least a thousand, probably two or three, rounds on before I could comfortably carry it in the field.

"And you're authorized a second personal weapon, those guidelines are available on the intranet."

"Thank you much." I stuck out my hand. He was holding the wide, floppy paper of my target in his hands.

"You're quite a shot, aren't ya?"

I smiled. I started shooting rifle in high school, but it had been Cale and Annie – not any formal class or instructor – who had polished every skill I had from range to tactical.

"I do my best, sir."

"_Yes, I have. I also have a basic sniper certification, and I recertified for hand-to-hand and negotiation just this fiscal year."_

_She raised one eyebrow at me, checking a box on the form. I resisted the urge to smack my palm in to my forehead. Since I'd been out of the field, my tolerance for idiots had gone way down. I'd been about six inches from having a media outlet banned from our office before I left._

"_Generally all agents, regardless of assignment or specialty, have to attend a 12-week course here at the Academy."_

_Oh my dear Lord, I was going to lose it._

"Hey, you've reached Hannah Hoffman. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can, though I can't promise it will be convenient in your time zone. If you need to reach me immediately, please contact the office of the Italian defense attaché at..."

I pressed 4, sending me right to voicemail.

"Hey, H, it's me. I'm leaving you another voicemail because I know you'll want the update as soon as I have it." I sighed in to the phone, crossing my ankles and resting my foot on the brake pedal of my car. "I had to officially qualify this morning... it seems so ridiculous after everything, you know? I already miss the Pentagon.

"Anyway, give me a call back when you get a chance. I'll send you all my new office information when I have it, and make sure you have the updated information for my old PAO assignment too. Is Jace over there with you still? Miss you. Talk soon."

"_Did you even read my personnel file?" I asked dubiously._

"_...but since you are on special assignment and needed right away, we have prepared this binder for you." She hefted a two-inch thick, full binder on to the desk._

"_The classified file?"_

_She blinked._

"_Of course not, I only have a public trust clearance."_

"_Alright, Sandra, thank you for your help, if you need anything else signed you can have it sent over to my office, but please have somebody review my paperwork before I have to sit through anything else." I picked the binder up off the desk. "Can I have the paperwork I need to take to ID and IT to get my badge and gear so I can just get to doing this job?"_

A large latte was sitting on the corner of my desk as I carefully unpacked my boxes. The challenge coins had gotten shuffled in the process, and I had to replace them on their holder.

Nobody else was in the bullpen yet – I hadn't even seen any office lights on as I slipped through that morning. I took a long draw of my coffee and sighed, looking at the stack of twelve-odd files that had appeared on my desk overnight. No rest for the weary, eh?

_I swore to myself under my breath when I realized I would need my badge to get in the door. Under the weight of three boxes I tried to fumble in my bag, nearly dropping all of them in the process._

"_Hey, you need some help?" A voice cut in, saving my stack of boxes just in time._

"_Thanks." I breathed, bending down to set them on the ground and extract my badge. "I was trying to get this stuff in here so I could make it back to the district before rush hour, but I don't think that's going to happen."_

"_DoD, huh?" I turned to look at him for the first time. Tall, with darker skin and eyebrows raised towards a non-existent hairline, he was surveying my boxes, which I just then noticed had OSD scrawled on the lid._

"_They were repossessions from DPW, saved them from the scrap bin. Save the earth and all that, right?" I said, propping the door open with my foot._

"_So you must be new."_

"_Starting tomorrow. Leila Ahmed." I stuck out my hand._

"_SSA Derek Morgan." He extended his own, returning a firm shake._

"_You're going to have to give me a run-down on your acronyms... we had plenty of our own, but I'm unfamiliar with the FBI's. I don't even know my own title yet." I laughed, bending down to grab my boxes._

"_No, please, let me help." He said, knocking my hand away and lifting the pile with ease. "Quick, before the door alarm. Where to?"_

"_Oh, um, great question." I reached for the top box, pulling off the lid and extracting my transfer paperwork. "Quantico, building 36... Division 3A? Also I'm a "communications liaison"..."_

"_That's the BAU bullpen." He stopped short of the elevator, turning to look at me. "Are you the new JJ?"_

Everything was looking somewhat decent as I dumped a handful of highlighters in to an Eastern State mug. There was a fax machine in the corner that had been periodically freaking out all morning, but other than that my attention never drifted outside my office.

I surveyed my desk, slightly adjusting an assortment of multi-colored Post-It dispensers that were set up under one of the picture frames I'd propped there. Between my brother Peter's graduation picture and a shot of my best friend Ginni's bridal party, above the brightly colored stacks of paper and surrounded by mahogany wood, was a picture of me and Ashton. Hannah was supposed to be in it, too, but something out of the frame had pulled her attention and she was only half-visible.

Our heads were tipped together in laughter, a glass of white wine in my hand dangerously close to spilling on the long dress I'd worn to Annie's Bahamas wedding. That had been after I returned from assignment in Afghanistan. That was when I finally felt safe enough to let myself love him. And for three days on an island, we had perfection.

But that was before they tried to replicate the success of my undercover mission with Ash and a task force. Before I had to hold the folded flag in my hands at his funeral, and clip his Presidential Medal of Freedom on to the corner of the picture frame.

A knock on my door shook me from my reverie, and I jumped, not realizing my fingertips had drifted towards the cool metal of the medal.

"Leila?"

"Yes, sir." I jumped up, smoothing out my dress.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief here." He extended his hand. "I'm sorry we weren't better prepared for your arrival. Things happened kind of fast."

"I understand, sir. I was equally surprised, but I'm ready to do everything I can to contribute to your team."

"I'm sure you are... I paged through your personnel file on my way over this morning." He watched for my reaction, and when I opened my mouth, continued. "The classified one." I pressed my lips together and nodded. "But now, I'd really like you to come meet the rest of the team, and I took the liberty of sorting our newest case files and selecting one while you acclimate to the position."

"Oh... well thank you... if you'll just give me one minute..."

"Our briefing room is around the corner. Whenever you're ready."

He excused himself, and I took a deep, shaky breath.

What had I gotten myself in to?


End file.
